Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
18. Liechtenstein
You know when you are entering the German-speaking part of Switzerland because all the towns have
names that sound like someone talking with his mouth full of bread: Thun, Leuk, Blach, Plaffeien, Flims,
Gstaad, Pf￤ffikon, Linthal, Thusis, Fluelen, Thalwil.
According to my rail ticket I was headed for the last of these, which puzzled me a little, since Thalwil
didn't appear on my much-trusted Kmmerly and Frey 'Alpenl￤nder Strassenkarte'. Where Thalwil should
have been was given instead as Horgen. I couldn't conceive that the conscientious draughtspeople at
Kmmerly and Frey could have made an error of this magnitude in their own country, but equally it was
unthinkable that the conservative burghers of this corner of Switzerland would have elected at some time
during the last eighteen years to change the name of one of their towns, so I put it down to an act of God and
turned my attention instead to spreading out the map on my knees in its full crinkly glory, to the undisguised
irritation of the old lady next to me, who hoomphed her bosom and made exasperated noises every time a
corner of the paper waggled in her direction.
What is it about maps? I could look at them all day, earnestly studying the names of towns and villages I
have never heard of and will never visit, tracing the course of obscure rivers, checking elevations, consulting
the marginal notes to see what a little circle with a flag on it signifies (a Burg or Schloss) and what's the
difference between a pictogram of an airplane with a circle around it and one without (one is a Flughafen,
the other a Flugplatz), issuing small profound 'Hmmmm's' and nodding my head gravely without having the
faintest idea why.
I noticed now that I might alternatively have gone from Brig to Geneva on a more southerly route, by way
of Aosta, Mont Blanc and Chamonix. It would almost certainly have been much more scenically exciting.
What a fool I was to miss the chance to see Aosta and Mont Blanc. How could I have come this far and
failed to travel through the heart of the Alps? What a mighty dick-head I am. 'Hmmmm,' I said, nodding
gravely and folding up the map.
We chuntered pleasantly through a landscape of small farms and steep wooded hills, beside a shallow
river, stopping frequently at isolated villages where half a dozen people would climb aboard with empty
shopping baskets. When the train was full, we would call at a busy little market town like Langnau or Zug and
all the passengers would pour off, leaving me all alone, and then the slow, steady refilling process would
begin again. It was not a bad way to spend a day.
I left the train at Sargans, just short of Liechtenstein. The railway runs through Liechtenstein, but, in line
with the national policy of being ridiculous in every possible way, it doesn't stop there. You must instead get
off at Sargans or Buchs and transfer to Vaduz, the diminutive Liechtenstein capital, on a yellow post bus.
One was conveniently waiting at the station. I purchased a ticket and took a seat midway along, the only
passenger not clutching bagloads of shopping, and sat high on the seat, eager to see the little country. It is
only about seven miles from Sargans to Vaduz, but the journey takes an hour or so because the bus goes all
over the place, darting down every side road and making cautious, circuitous detours around back lanes, as
if trying to sneak into Vaduz. I watched carefully out of the window, but never did know at what point we
entered Liechtenstein - indeed wasn't certain that we were there at all until I saw the city-limit sign for
Vaduz.
Everything about Liechtenstein is ridiculous. For a start it is ridiculously small: it is barely 1/250th the
size of Switzerland, which of course is itself ridiculously small. It is the last remaining fragment of the Holy
Roman Empire, and so obscure that its ruling family didn't even bother to come and see it for 150 years. It
has two political parties, popularly known as the Reds and the Blacks, which have so few ideological
differences that they share a motto: 'Faith in God, Prince and Fatherland'. Liechtenstein's last military
engagement was in 1866, when it sent eighty men to fight against the Italians. Nobody was killed. In fact -
you're going to like this - they came back with eighty-one men, because they made a friend on the way.
Two years later, realizing that the Liechtensteiners could beat no one, the Crown Prince disbanded the
army.
More ridiculousness: it is the world's largest producer of sausage skins and false teeth. It is a notorious
